He Needs a Distraction
by WordsOfASong
Summary: Finnick resides in the hospital of District 13. He craves a fight, he craves adrenaline, he wants his Annie back. His body weak, and he knows he physically cannot reach her. He is forced to remain in 13 with nothing but the nurses and a distraction.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Hunger Games _trilogy.

**Author's Note**: I know that President Coin _knows_ Katniss is going to District 8, but I changed it around. You'll see!

.x.

My arms are folded across my chest as I stare into a corner of my gloomy room. Annie could be staring into the same corner a hundred miles away. I would switch with her in a heartbeat to secure her safety if I could. My fists clench until my knuckles turn white. What are they doing to her? What are they turning her into? My Annie… my little Annie is being tortured, and there is nothing to do about it. I attempt to shove Annie from my mind. It's been my therapy lately. Annie is lost at the moment, and we cannot find her. It's best for me, for Annie's sake, if I take my mind off the thoughts that torture me daily. I breathe slowly. My name is Finnick Odair. I am twenty-four years old. District 4 is my home. I tie knots as a distraction. Annie Cresta is my love. I don't know where she is.

A nurse, fully dressed in white, crosses in front of my bed. She raises her clipboard and adjusts her rectangular glasses as I sit up.

"Don't you look nice today, Zendria?" I swing her one of my lopsided smiles.

There are strands of hair slipping out of Zendria's usually tight bun and the top two buttons of her nurse's gown have been undone. Even I must admit the mussed look suits her well. "Anything new?"

"Oh, dear Mr. Odair," her hand gives a wave. Zendria was never the friendliest type, but as my current nurse, she's the only contact I have nowadays. "Some people working with Ms. Everdeen, you know, the usual." Her gaze glances nervously to the door, the wall, and the floor. She sighs, "nothing you should worry about, Mr. Odair."

"Zen, please do call me Finnick."

She blushes. I always thought she could be pretty under the scowl she constantly adorns; she can't be more than thirty years old. "As you wish, Finnick," she relents while scribbling on the clipboard. She fiddles with the wires attached to my chest before adjusting the antibiotics on my IV.

"I _told_ you I didn't want you taking her, Plutarch. I _told _you she's not ready to televise yet. There's nothing she's willing to give us. I'm _telling _you. The girl on fire has burned out," I hear President Coin's angry voice echoing in the hallway.

"Is there something you want me to get you, Mr. Odair. Uh, Finnick. Food, water, morphling…"

I fade Zendria's voice out of my head, focusing my ears on the door.

"Alma, no, she's _ready_. The hovercraft is waiting and she is in the Remake Room right now. There's no changing our minds on this. She's going with the soldiers to District 8. She's ready to fight be it physically _or_ vocally."

_Televise. District 8. Fight._

My heart yearns for a change from this dreary hospital room full of wires and machines. I want action. I want adrenaline. I want to fight with the people who will bring my Annie back.

"Zen. I need to go with them."

"No. Absolutely not."

"Why?"

"You're sick, Mr. Odair."

"I'm fine. I really am," I sit up straighter and smile. "See? Perfectly fine." My head spins and my body threatens to collapse.

"You are staying here, and that is final," she says sternly.

"Thanks, Zendria. Thanks a lot," I cross my arms again and flop back against my pilllow. If she is going to treat me like a child, I am going to act like one.

"Finnick, dear. Take this," Zendria hands me a rope, trying to distract me from the voices outside. I fiddle with it quickly and toss together a lame knot. While Zendria faces the other corner, I rip the rope in two.

"Oh, Zen. I'm really sorry. It was an accident," I pout when she turns to me. "Could you please get me another?"

Her scowl deepens as she drags her feet out of the room, leaving the door ajar.

I tear the wires from my skin and quickly unplug the machine before it beeps loud enough to call Zendria back into the room. I fly out of the room and down the hallway in my slippers, hospital gown trailing in the breeze. It's been ages since I've been out of the hospital, but I must find the hovercraft before it departs.

"Katniss!" I call, catching sight of the opening elevator ahead of me. "Katniss! They won't let me go! I told them I'm fine, but they won't even let me ride in the hovercraft!" Katniss, my last hope of getting anywhere. Katniss, who can threaten the president with a single word. Katniss Everdeen, the only person who understands how I feel about being away from my Annie.

She smacks her forehead, "Oh, I forgot. It's this stupid concussion. I was supposed to tell you to report to Beetee in special weaponry."

Special weaponry? It's not District 8. I need to get out of Thirteen. I need a change. I need something to bring me back to my old self.

She sees the frown on my face and adds, "He's designed a new trident for you."

My attention sparks. Trident. District 4. A _trident. _A trident that's _mine._

"Really?" She must be kidding. They wouldn't give a 'mentally disoriented' man a trident. "What's it do?" If it's Beetee's trident, it has to be high tech.

"I don't know. But if it's anything like my bow and arrows, you're going to love it. You'll need to train with it, though."

The prospect of training excites me. They'll have to let me out of the hospital for that, "Right. Of course. I guess I better get down there."

I turn to race down the hallway, thrilled with the idea of a new trident, when I hear, "Finnick? Maybe some pants?"

I skid to a stop in my slippers and look down. I can't help but laugh once realizing my outfit. What's the use of a gown anyway? I rip it off and turn to face Katniss.

"Why? Do you find this" – I strike a pose worthy enough for my countless lovers in the Capitol – "distracting?"

Katniss laughs, for what I assume must be for one of the first times in a long time, if her stay in Thirteen has been anything like mine. I notice Boggs beside her, looking incredibly awkward.

"I'm only human, Odair," she says before stepping inside the elevator.

I smile. That Katniss really is more than she gives herself credit for.

**Author's Note: **This is my second Finnick fic, so I hope I'm improving with this. If you have any advice, please do review! My first Finnick fic is a Finnick/Annie one. It's entitled "Free" and can be found under my stories. Enjoy!


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